TO GEORGE
Holy Spirit, knowest Thou of our poor, weak human frame?
Canst Thou suffer to allow our stained lips to breathe Thy name?
Heavenly Father, canst Thou hear our complaints and bitter wail?
Wilt Thou evermore appear unto us so weak and frail?
What are we, that we utter our poor fears and foolish sighs?
Thou, O God! dost know the better, surer path for us to rise.
Rise as conquerors unto Thee, high above this mortal coil,
More than conquerors yet to be, as our pilgrim- age we toil.
Faith on wings of love we fly, to be nearer at Thy side,
Struggling for the place on high, and our life in Thee to hide.
Canst Thou suffer to allow our stained lips to breathe Thy name?
Heavenly Father, canst Thou hear our complaints and bitter wail?
Wilt Thou evermore appear unto us so weak and frail?
What are we, that we utter our poor fears and foolish sighs?
Thou, O God! dost know the better, surer path for us to rise.
Rise as conquerors unto Thee, high above this mortal coil,
More than conquerors yet to be, as our pilgrim- age we toil.
Faith on wings of love we fly, to be nearer at Thy side,
Struggling for the place on high, and our life in Thee to hide.
Fear not, my tired brother; lift your head again and rise
To that Love, beyond another, calling you above the skies,—
Calling yet, and pleading you, wearing still your guilt to-day;
To that Love, beyond another, calling you above the skies,—
Calling yet, and pleading you, wearing still your guilt to-day;
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